


Into the Narrows

by nimbus_underground



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbus_underground/pseuds/nimbus_underground
Summary: Oswald hears about Edward's show in the Narrows and decides to confront him.
Relationships: Edward Nygma & Leslie Thompkins, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	Into the Narrows

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Comments appreciated. Thanks.

"He is doing, WHAT?" Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, more formally known as The Penguin, hissed through clenched teeth. Lines hardened across his sharp features as a mixture of fury and humiliation burned in his chest. The expression of unadulterated rage and indignation was familar to all those who worked for him, living or dead.

His assistant Mr. Penn gulped, taking a hesitant half-shuffle away from his boss, the wave of fear radiating off of Oswald causing the color to drain from his face. "The Ridd-I mean, Mr. Edward Nygma is...imitating your likeness in the Narrows. Making fun of your image in a fight club, sir."

Oswald fumed for a moment, reveling in the mixture of fear and admiration that washed off of Penn. That's part of the reason why he liked the man so much, why he kept him around. Sure, he was competent. Trustworthy? Maybe. But better than that, he knew how to show respect - through fear and admiration. 

Oswald took a step toward Penn, quietly satisfied with how the other man shrunk away from his anger. It made him feel powerful, like his anger itself was a physical force. "I will not let this stand. After everything I've done for Gotham? Nygma and those vermin in the Narrows should be thanking me!"

"Of course sir," Penn replied with curt nod, "I could send Zsasz down there to clear things up. Or Firefly."

"Hmm, sending a message. Not a bad idea," Oswald huffed, spinning on his good leg toward the high-backed leather chair at his desk. He sat down, resting his sharp chin in his hand and contemplated the idea for a moment. Zsasz would make quick work of Nygma, and Firefly was an excellent way to send a message. Oswald tried to picture his former friend's face, how shocked and hurt he'd look when his charade was through. A glittering bubble of thrill filled his stomach imagining it. 

"No. This is personal," the Penguin declared, "Nygma is making fun of me, in my city, after I so mercifully let him live? I want to face him myself. Alone."

"But sir," Penn retorted with a worried look, "I'm afraid that's not such a great idea. You would be attacked on sight, showing up in the Narrows. And outnumbered. Surely-"

The Penguin raised a hand, silencing Penn before he could go on. "If I show up as the Penguin, certainly. But I have another idea." 

\---

A light mist fell over Gotham as The Penguin made his way across the city. The rain created soft lines of water and light that ran down the dirty windows of the cab. Oswald figured it would be best to be as inconspicuous of possible - taking a plain cab instead of his chauffer and black car for the first time in - oh who knows how long? The cab would have to drop him a few blocks away from Cherry's club, since no one in the Narrows would take a cab to a club fight anyway. But no matter. 

_As good a time as every to try out this thing_ \-- Oswald thought to himself, looking down at his bad leg. It still stuck out at an uncomfortable angle, but less so that usual. 

He lifted the hem of his slacks to finger the cold metal brace, newly constructed to lessen the limp and help him walk longer distances. He'd yet to try it outside of his office yet, where he walked in tight circles around the desk when no one was around. It felt, better. Certainly not pain free - that hope had left him long ago - but far more tolerable. And it certainly made him limp less...penguin-esk. 

The cab came to a halt, in front of a shoddy dinner a few blocks from Cherry's. A false location, in case someone was trying to track him down. Not that anyone knew where he was right now but Penn and Zsasz. 

Oswald straightened his collar, stepping out into the misty night. He felt oddly naked without his typical three-piece suit and cane. Instead replaced with an inconspicuous sweater and dark slacks. Even his hair neatly parted and rather unlike his usual extravagant do. Disco vampire, as Barbara loved to call it. He pulled a hat down to cover his eyes, but that hardly mattered. Without his usual get-up, he was even able to walk through the Iceberg Lounge on his way out without so much as a second glance from anyone. 

But now he just felt out of sorts. Setting off toward the club, he felt somewhat off balance by the way the brace reduced his limp from a full-body effort, to a slight drag of the right leg. Though he felt a wash of relief as the pain stayed minimal, even after five blocks on the slick, uneven sidewalk of The Narrows. He did not feel like The Penguin. 

\---

It was somewhat surprising how easily Oswald was able to slip into the crowd without notice. Penn's informant had been very detailed in their run down of the club. Just walk down the ally between an old record shop and an abandoned storefront, left down a set of steps to a gated entryway. Pass the guard a coupled of bucks entrance fee and you're in. 

The poor lighting, and Oswald's below-average height certainly played an advantage. Neither the guard nor anyone in the crowd gave the crimelord a second glance as he passed through the club to get closer to the stage. It was all he could do to hold back cackling in the bartenders face, as he grabbed a drink at the bar -- _good thing places like this don't card_ \-- he smirked at the thought.

\---

The first half of the show passed without incident - relatively so, in a fight club anyway. Plenty of bloodshed and broken bones. Oswald was surprised by how much he was enjoying it all. The theatrical characters mixed with unbridled violence, pure entertainment. 

Oswald was so wrapped up in his enjoyment of the show, he felt genuine excitement when the lights dimmed and the crowd around him hushed. The energy of the club became electric. Clearly this was what the crowd was waiting all night for. Oswald leaned forward against the railing where he stood at the foot of the stage, squinting into the darkness. 

"Stupid, lame, birdbrain!" A low voice crackled over the speaker, sending a hot shiver down Oswald's spine.

"When will he learn?" The voice continued, a spotlight flashing onto the stage, blinding for a moment before revealing a lanky figure, dressed in a soiled and ill-fitting three-piece suit. A crudely fashioned beak attached to the man's face, all high cheekbones and dark eyes. Edward Nygma.

Edward began to pace the stage, squawking and pretending to be a shrill version of the Penguin. Oswald gaped, slack jawed as a blush of anger and humiliation made his face burn like hot coals. The imitation was crude and theatrical, biting even. Oswald clenched his fists, stifling an overwhelming urge to leap onto stage and throttle the man - his former friend, ex-business partner, the man he once loved now mocking him publicly. The crowed surged around him, cheering in response to the display.

For fear of loosing control and exposing himself, Oswald took the opportunity to duck back into the crowd, weaving with some difficulty back through the now hysterical throngs of people. He stumbled somewhat clumsily up to the bar, a loud ringing in his ears drowning out pain that slowly increased in his bad ankle. 

Gruffly, he ordered another drink from the bartender before settling on one of the unoccupied stools. The bar was located toward the back of the club, far away from the stage. Only the bartender and one other person lingered, as the fight was now starting. 

Oswald gripped his drink with ferocity, staring hot daggers' at the stage. For a second, Oswald could swear he recognized one of the brutes up on stage - a familiar hulking frame - but in his blinding rage he could take his eyes away from his former friend long enough to confirm the resemblance. 

Ed had now moved off the stage but was standing near the corner in plain view, somehow changed into a glittering emerald suit. Despite the garish showmanship, Oswald couldn't help thinking how excellent the color looked on him. How it accentuated his long legs and narrow hips. The sight send a shiver up Oswald's spine, despite the burning rage in his chest. 

From the corner of his eye, Oswald watched the slinky shadow of the only other person at the bar slip into the seat next to him. 

"How are you liking the show?" A vaguely familiar voice asked, with a hint of sarcasm. Oswald whipped his head around to scowl at whoever dare disturb his sulking. 

Dr. Lee Thompkins sat in the next stool and held his gaze without flinching. Impressive. A flask in one hand, back pressed casually against the bar, she smiled coyly. Her dark make-up complemented the dark sleepless bags under her eyes. 

"I think you know exactly how I feel about the show," Oswald spat back. He was surprised to see Detective Gordon's former fiancé in a place like this, but somewhat happy to ponder whatever misfortune must have prompted a fall from grace. 

"And what do you plan to do about it? Kill him?" Lee responded calmly, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet."

"Well that doesn't sound like you Penguin. I thought you solved all of your problems that way."

Oswald scoffed, returning his gaze to the ring to glare at Ed. 

Problems. She was right, Ed was a problem. The more he riled these crowds up, the more likely there would be trouble in the Narrows for The Penguin and his businesses. Oswald slipped a hand into his coat pocket, fingering the cold switchblade he brought along. 

His mind flashed to the first time he held a knife against Nygma's neck, back when Ed still worked for the GCPD, before Oswald fell in love with him, before he was betrayed. Left to die. The rage bubbled in his stomach, but didn't rise. 

Oswald though about holding the knife to Ed's throat once more, drawing blood, watching the life drain from his dark eyes, but it didn't elicit the reaction he was used to. Normally when he though about murdering his enemies, a sort of buzzing joy filled his head, like a caffeine high. Instead, he just felt hollow. Oswald pulled his hand out from his pocket and placed it on the bar. 

"Tell Ed, this is his last show. If this-" he pointed a sharp finger back to the ring, where a man has just unceremoniously torn his opponents arm off, "-happens again, I'll send Zsasz. Understand?" Oswald leaned in with his infamous, mocking smile.

Lee stood up. "You know, I could just tell Cherry you're here. Tell anyone at this club you're here. Without your goons, wont last a second." 

"No need, Dr. Thompkins, I was just making my leave," Oswald pushed off from the bar. "And if you tell Cherry, or Ed, I was here. I'll be sure to make sure to stop by the GCPD and let our good friend Gordon know what you're up to," he smirked and stalked off toward the exit without waiting for a reply.

The crowd cheered behind him as the fight came to its bloody conclusion. 

\---

Oswald slipped out of the entrance and onto the sidewalk, the rain had ended but it was still a gritty, cold night. Just five blocks to the diner, and a cab away from home. A warm bath was in order after such a humiliating night. But something pulled him the opposite way down the street. 

Despite his own common sense, instead of making his swift escape back to the safety of the Iceberg Lounge as he should have, Oswald slipped the opposite way around the building to try to find a back entrance. 

He didn't know what he was thinking, if thinking was involved at all. Instead he let himself be led by instinct alone, a primal urge to catch one more glance of Edward Nygma - this time up close. Unobstructed by the harsh lights, booming music, and swarming crowds of Cherry's club. 

It was painfully unwise to linger, Oswald knew that. Lee had already threatened him, and she was right. Without Zsasz or any of his goons, the Narrows was a dangerous place to be. But he pushed that thought out of his mind as he slipped down the adjacent ally, following it down to what seemed like it must be the back of the club based on the amount of cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles that clustered around a heavy iron door. 

Ducking behind a nearby dumpster, Oswald pressed his back against the cold brick wall, massaging his right leg absently. From his spot he could just made out the edge of the door, while he was shrouded in shadow. 

Every few minutes, people would stumble out in twos and threes, drunkenly cackling or shouting. Some lingered to smoke a cigarette or polish off their beer before making a failing an attempt to dunk the bottled into the open dumpster. They all passed out of the ally eventually, none noticing Oswald from his hidden perch. After half an hour or so - just thoughts of abandoning his reckless plan and returning to the comfort of his warm and safe club began to creep into his mind - the door swung open with an emerald glint. 

"--worry so much. Besides, we're making so much cash - don't you want to keep the clinic going?" Oswald could almost taste the arrogance radiating off of Edward's voice. He watched the lanky man smirk down at Lee, who simply groaned a held out her hand in response. Ed pulled out a stack of cash, slipping half into her outstretched palm.

"I'm serious Ed. This can't go on forever," Lee retorted before spinning on her heels. With a casual wave and a, "good night Ed," she slipped off down the ally the opposite way. 

Oswald's ears grew hot, with rage or excitement he couldn't determine, as he watched his former friend. Ed pocketed the rest of the money, watching Lee for a second and chuckling to himself. 

Ed started to walk toward the street, striding past Oswald's hiding spot. Oswald held his breath, heart suddenly racing. The ally was empty except for the two of them now. Without a second thought, Oswald pushed off from the brick wall and started down the ally toward Edward. 

"That was quite a show, Mr. Nygma," Penguin growled in a low voice, rapidly closing the distance between them. A giddy bubble of adrenaline rose in his throat as the name of his former friend came out of his mouth. With one hand poised on the cold switchblade in his pocket, he managed to get within spitting distance in a matter of seconds. 

Ed chuckled, back still to Oswald. "Why thank you, always nice to meet a fan," he said, turning his chin to look but not slowing his pace. "But please, call me the Riddl-" Ed halted mid-stride, catching the familiar icy green stare of his former friend. He froze, contemplating drawing his gun or just making a run for it. 

The hesitation was just long enough for Oswald to catch up, grabbing Ed by the glittering green lapels and pulling him forward into a hard grasp. "No thank you, Ed, I will not call you by that ridiculous nickname of yours."

"What are you doing here Oswald," Ed retorted, voice wavering. His dark eyes darted over Oswald's head, searching the shadows of the alley for Lee's figure in hopes that she wasn't yet out of earshot. No such luck. 

"Oh I think you know why I'm here Ed. I came to see your show," a sinister smile spread across Oswald's face, eyes glinting with rage and indignation, "quite splendid I have to say. Truly, I was enthralled. That is, till the little part at the end," he emphasized his point with a curt shake of his fists.

"All in good fun, I can assure you. After all, why would anyone have a reason not to like you? Mr. Penguin," Ed spat back.

"Like me? LIKE ME? These people should be thanking me! They should be grateful, and so should you! If you remember, I spared your life Edward. And this is how you repay me? By mocking me in this filthy rat hole of a club?"

"Grateful? To the man who ruined my life, ruined any chance I had at happiness?" 

"And you betrayed me. Ruined everything I had worked so hard to accomplish. Don't talk to me about happiness, we could have been happy Edward. I could have made you happy." 

Edward gulped, a hot sense of shame rising in his throat, "I told you Oswald, I don't love you," he whispered, desperately trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. He raised his hands and put them over Oswald's tight grip, but stopped short of trying to remove them.

Oswald tried to stifle a blush, Edwards warm hands resting on his own suddenly felt very intimate. Their faces so close, he could smell the taller man's cologne mixed with sweat, searching for any hint of recognition in his dark gaze. Edward dropped his eyes so he wouldn't have to face the searching, icy stare. 

"Fair enough," Oswald released his grip with a shove, "but you still owe me for sparing your life. No more of this flagrant tarnishing of my image or I might rethink this kindness. Next time, I'll bring Firefly to burn the place down." 

Ed's jaw tightened, a threat he had no doubt Oswald would follow through on. Like all of his threats. "Fine."

"Great, keep your word and you'll never have to see me again," Oswald grinned, his words acidic. Pushing past the taller man, he gritted his teeth and began limping toward the street. Just a few block to find a taxi and he could be free of this disastrous night.

Ed watched, a little stunned, as his former friend limped back down the ally and away from him. _Surely that's not all he came for_ , he thought, instinctively reaching out a long arm to grab Oswald by the wrist. The shorter man jerked it back in surprise, but didn't manage to break away.

"Surely that's not all you came for Oswald. All alone, to the Narrows, just to ask me to stop? You could have sent anyone to do that for you. Why come yourself?"

Os hesitated, a little stunned by the confrontation, "if you want a job done right you have to do it yourself," his responded quietly.

Ed chuckled. "You have hired professionals whose job it is to intimidate people," he pulled Oswald closer, "this was personal."

"This is business," Oswald spat, letting his former friend drag him closer, till they were just inches apart.

"You wanted to see me yourself," the grin on Edwards face was now mocking, revealing his sharp teeth more like a threat than a question. "...alone," Ed leaned in now, mouth grazing the shorter man's ear, "because you still love me."

For a split second, Oswald imagined biting the man in retaliation, taking the velvety flesh of Ed's earlobe between his teeth and biting down till he tasted blood. 

Instead, he growled, "I told you. I'm done with love. That ended when you shot me and left me to die."

Ed's mocking smile faded. Despite all of the pain and anger, it was impossible to deny how much he regretted everything that had conspired. There was no way to go back to what they had before. They had both crossed the line.

"For men like us, love will always be our weakness," Ed whispered, "I'm sorry."

A shocked little gasp escaped Oswald, taken aback by the words he was not prepared to hear. Suddenly his anger sizzled and faded, leaving them standing in a cold empty ally devoid of the rage that consumed them both just seconds before. 

"You're sorry?"

"I thought I wanted you dead, I thought I never wanted to see you again. But after, I - I couldn't, I - I missed you Oswald. I still miss you."

Oswald swallowed against the hard lump in his throat, eyes beginning to sting. A long silence filled the space between them. 

"Oswald, I-" Ed begins again, trying to fill the silence, but Oswald wants the silence, wants to end honest words. They're too painful. So he grabs the taller man, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss.

"I miss you too."

Ed grabbed Oswald by both wrists and backs him into the ally wall, pressing their bodies together. A light groan escapes the shorter man, and Ed releases his wrists to instead place one hand against Oswald's soft cheek. Ed tastes like coffee and a lingering sweetness he can't place. It's all Oswald can do to choke back tears at the tender touch. He returns his tight grip to Ed's glittering green collar, this time to pull him deeper into the kiss. 

Suddenly, the heavy door to Cherry's swings open with a bang. Both men startle, Oswald stiffening against Ed's body. If he's caught now, not even Ed's kind words will be able to get him out alive. "Shit," he curses under his breath.

Edward instinctively shifts his body to obstruct the intruder's view, placing one hand on the brick ally wall to hide Os's face. They breathe heavy into each other's mouths, not daring to turn around and see who the intruder might be.

Light footsteps crunched against the concrete ground, slowly making their way toward the pair. 

"Alright right, Riddler. Getting a little post-show action? Good for you!" A gruff voiced called out, as a straggler from the club, stumbling from intoxication.

Oswald watched as a thick blush spread across Ed's face, coupled with a grimace. He felt the taller man place his free hand against his shoulder, probably an attempt to hold him back lest he try to leap out and slit the intruder's throat. _Ed knows me well._

They stayed like that for a few tense minutes, waiting for the stranger to make it out to the street.

Finally, Oswald broke the spell. "I think I should be going, before someone more, observant, walks by."

"Yeah, you're uh...you're probably right," Edward responds straightening up from the wall. He releases his grip and lets it slide down the shorter man's arm.

Oswald opens his mouth to speak, but for the first time in a long time he's at a loss for words - swimming in his own thoughts. There's so much he wants to say, wants to do, just wishing they could go back. And have this, before trapping his only friend in ice, before Isabella. 

_I love you I love you I love you_ , his thoughts scream but he can't bare to say the words out loud. Not again, even with the warm feeling of Ed's lips on his still lingering. Instead, he slips from Ed's softened grip and starts once more toward the street. 

"But what if I want to see you again."

Os paused, "what?"

"You said if I stopped the show, I would never have to see you again. What if I want to see you again."

Oswald looked back over his shoulder, familiar cunning smile spreading across his sharp features. "Well, my old friend, I think that can be arranged."


End file.
